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When love flies it is remembered not as love but as something else. Blessed are the uneducated, who forget it entirely, and are never conscious of folly or pruriency in the past, of long aimless conversations.
E. M. Forster
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E. M. Forster
Age: 91 †
Born: 1879
Born: January 1
Died: 1970
Died: June 7
Biographer
Essayist
Librettist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
London
England
Edward Morgan Forster
E Forster
EM Forster
Conscious
Uneducated
Forget
Flies
Else
Conversations
Past
Folly
Long
Entirely
Something
Remembered
Never
Blessed
Love
Conversation
Aimless
More quotes by E. M. Forster
I believe in teaching people to be individuals, and to understand other individuals.
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What the world most needs today are negative virtues - not minding people, not being huffy, touchy, irritable or revengeful.
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I do like Christmas on the whole.... In its clumsy way, it does approach Peace and Goodwill. But it is clumsier every year.
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If only the sense of actuality can be lulled-and it sleeps for ever in most historians-there is no passion that cannot be gratified in the past.
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The only books that influence us are those for which we are ready, and which have gone a little farther down our particular path than we have yet got ourselves.
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Humility is a quality for which I have only a limited admiration. In many phases of life it is a great mistake and degenerates into defensiveness or hypocrisy.
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Are not beauty and delicacy the same?
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The present flowed by them like a stream. The tree rustled. It had made music before they were born, and would continue after their deaths, but its song was of the moment. The moment had passed. The tree rustled again. Their senses were sharpened, and they seemed to apprehend life. Life passed. The tree rustled again.
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Pathos, piety, courage, they exist, but are identical, and so is filth. Everything exists, nothing has value.
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I am an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort.
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Man has to pick up the use of his functions as he goes along- especially the function of Love.
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The historian records, but the novelist creates.
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If there is on earth a house with many mansions, it is the house of words.
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Let us think of people as starting life with an experience they forget and ending it with one which they anticipate but cannot understand.
E. M. Forster
The book [ A Passage to India ] shows signs of fatigue and disillusionment but it has chapters of clear and triumphant beauty, and above all it makes us wonder, what will he write next?
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But Humanity, in its desire for comfort, had over-reached itself. It had exploited the riches of nature too far. Quietly and complacently, it was sinking into decadence, and progress had come to mean the progress of the Machine.
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A novel must give a sense of permanence as well as a sense of life.
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I don't know what to think until I see what I've said.
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No one is more triumphant than the man who chooses a worthy subject and masters all its facts.
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Human beings have their great chance in the novel.
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